


left my life of sin

by fiverivers



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 6x11, Angst, Bible Quotes, Family Issues, Gen, Octavia Blake Deserves Better, Octavia Blake-centric, POV Octavia Blake, Pro Octavia Blake, Redemption, season 6, speculative fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-11 23:06:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19936006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiverivers/pseuds/fiverivers
Summary: “I don’t need a lecture on moral relativity from the Queen of Cannibals.” Bellamy looks at Octavia then and she looks away, swallows down her rage and hurt.-A Blake siblings confrontation/continuation of the 6x11 sneak peek. Octavia-centric.





	left my life of sin

**Author's Note:**

> A continuation of this [sneak peek](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w-FC0HyLYw8/) for 6x11.
> 
> (I only took the relevant dialogue from it!)

“He doesn’t want to kill the people inside—he wants to save them. They’ll die to protect the Primes.” Octavia explains to Clarke, who’s still eyeing Gabriel distrustfully.

“Then they die.” Bellamy replies callously, catches everybody’s attention. Gabriel grinds his teeth. He won’t stand for flippant disregard of the lives of his people.

“Bellamy, he doesn’t want to kill his own people.” Octavia means to diffuse the situation, understands Gabriel’s perspective intimately.

“Why not? You did.” Bellamy is blunt and unforgiving.

“Bellamy—” Clarke begins to admonish gently. He is being intentionally cruel, Octavia knows that—but it’s just his desperation to save his _family_ she tells herself. Octavia could almost laugh at that, ignores the bitterness and envy sitting heavy on her chest.

“I don’t need a lecture on moral relativity from the Queen of Cannibals.” Bellamy looks at Octavia then and she looks away, struggles to swallow down her rage and hurt.

The room is thick with tension. Clarke reaches for Bellamy, touches his arm lightly. “Bellamy—” she starts again.

“No, Clarke.” Octavia says evenly, the broken look is gone—she lets her pain in, allows it to guide her. “Let him.” She turns her cold gaze on her brother. “But remember: while you were fucking the woman who almost killed me, I was ensuring my people’ssurvival.”

“Echo—”

“I don’t care where you stick your dick, Bellamy.” Octavia hisses, a dam of rage breaking open inside of her, she slams her hands on the table. “I care that you lived a fairytale in space with your green shit and your happy-go-lucky family when everyday was an uphill battle for my people. We struggled. Usurpers, hunger, murder—tell me, what was I supposed to do? Banish them?” Octavia laughs then—hollow and crazed.

“I have regrets,” Her voice softens. She can still see Bellamy on his knees—she’s sure she would’ve taken a blade to her throat after. “But I don’t regret what I did to protect our survival. We would’ve all died. I saved us.” It is something she has told herself repeatedly, desperately— _it had to be done_ —but she is still ashamed, haunted.

“Yeah, I lost my way.” She admits. Another regret—burning the farm. In the moment, it had felt necessary, right—she wouldn’t condemn her people to a half-life in a wasteland, not after the horrors they had suffered. “Remember what mom used to read to us?” Their mother found religion late in life, used to read them psalms, hymns, and parable and speak of God’s infinite love and forgiveness.

“’ _Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone,’_ ” She quotes.

Neither of them ever really understood their mother's faith—but sitting by her, listening to her, watching her glow when she talk about the Kingdom of Heaven was always lovely particularly because she was otherwise so _empty_. The memory leaves her heart aching.

“I’d say our body counts are about even, wouldn’t you?” Finally, a visible reaction—Bellamy clenches his fists. His distress and discomfort infuriates Octavia further—the reminder of his crimes hurts him but he throws hers in her face.

(She could mention Lincoln—but she wouldn’t do that to her brother or herself. And his memory is raw and beautiful and she won’t corrupt his memory by using his name to torment.)

“Tell me _big brother_ ,” She says derisively. “Should I have let us become a crypt? A mausoleum—a monument to morality and righteousness. You could’ve walked our halls, seen our bones and reminisced on your good and kind sister _who did her best_ —would you rather that?” Her voice cracks. When Bellamy looks at her now, his gaze is always cold and distant. He would’ve preferred that, she’s sure and the thought hurts but she can’t live for his absolution and love. That’s not what will heal her.

“I want your forgiveness, Bell.” Octavia could reach across the table and touch Bellamy’s hand. She doesn’t bother, knows he will recoil from her touch—doesn’t need the heartbreak. “But I don’t need it.” Octavia doesn’t realize she means it until the words ring true in her ears. 

Octavia isn’t aware she’s crying—not until Clarke is holding her face in her hands and wiping her tears. “We won’t kill their people.” Clarke concedes but doesn’t promise—they _will_ if they must.

But it’s enough for now.

**Author's Note:**

> I watched the sneak peek and was immediately pissed off at Bellamy for acting up and three hours later this was written (also... Bellamy advocating for genocide?? #NotMyBellamy)
> 
> ANYWAY....... I genuinely hope Bellamy gets his shit rocked by Octavia.
> 
> And god... I almost sprinkled in some bellarke but I was like "damn bitch, chill..."


End file.
